The Pull of Gravity

by Brett Battles

  As our relationship progressed, Cathy and I fell into a pattern. A comfortable pattern, at least for me, because it had been a long time since I’d felt so content. Manny would give us a ride home in his trike every night after work. Sometimes we would make love before we went to sleep, sometimes after we woke the next afternoon. Sometimes both, and often it was neither. We’d lounge around the house for several hours, watching the satellite TV or going for a swim, then we’d head for Fields, stopping for dinner first, more times than not at The Pit Stop, before arriving at The Lounge just before six p.m. On our days off, we’d just stay home and do nothing. We were both just too wiped out.

  I’m not quite sure exactly when Cathy started acting differently, only that it wasn’t long after the encounter with Rudy. She began to get annoyed over stupid things, and she would become quieter than usual, over long periods of time, days even. And while we’d always argued, there had once been a playfulness to our banter. There was no playfulness now. She almost sounded bitter on occasion, and sometimes resentful.

  It had a familiar feel to me. I feared things were falling apart like they had with Maureen, and with every relationship I’d ever been in. I wanted to ask her what was wrong. I wanted to fix whatever it was and return to that state of contentment. I wanted us to be us again, not caring about anything and just enjoying the ride.

  But while I was good at helping others, I sucked at helping myself. I was afraid if I said anything, she would tell me there was no way to make things right. I was afraid that by trying to fix our relationship, I might inadvertently end it. So I said nothing and hoped for the best, because, more than anything, I was afraid that if she asked me, “Do you love me? Really love me?” I would have to tell her the truth.

  It was Manfred, though, who had the most immediate, profound change. It was a Sunday, and I’d invited him out to my place for an early barbecue. Cathy had decided she had something she needed to do that afternoon, so it was just the two of us, a pair of sirloin steaks and enough ice-cold San Miguels to keep us happy. We were out by the pool, each of us having taken a preliminary dip, but planning on more. I put the food on a couple of plastic plates and we sat around stuffing the tender meat into our mouths and washing it down with the beer.

  “I think it’s time,” Manfred said when he was halfway done with his steak.

  “For what?” I asked, thinking he meant another swim and knowing I wasn’t even close to ready for that yet.

  He set his fork down, and took a long pull from his bottle before answering. “I told you my mother isn’t doing too well, right?”

  “I think you mentioned it,” I said. “Did something happen?”

  “No. She’s the same. But I’ve been thinking.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been thinking I should spend some time with her,” he said.

  “You gonna go back for a visit, then?” I asked.

  He was silent for several moments, so I looked up from my steak. He had a wistful smile on his face. “No,” he said. “Not a visit. I’m going back to stay.”

  I set my own fork down. “You mean, move home?”

  He nodded. “It’s time.”

  “Was it that thing with Rudy?” The incident was over two months in our past, but not yet a distant memory.

  “Partly,” he said. “But it’s everything, really. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. All this isn’t real. I guess I was going to have to face it at some point.”

  I stared at him. It wasn’t that I thought he should stay, it was just I hadn’t expected any of my friends to leave. I don’t mean I was selfish or anything, only that it hadn’t dawned on me that it might happen.

  “You know what this place is,” he said. “I think you, more than anyone, keep a pretty good grip on reality. But I don’t have your strength.” He paused for a moment, breathing in deeply. “If I don’t leave now, this place will kill me.”

  As soon as he spoke the words, I knew he was telling the truth. If he didn’t leave, he’d be a destroyed man, maybe not dead, but near enough that it wouldn’t matter. He would become a drunk and a serial womanizer. And more than anything, he’d get to the point where he could never break his addiction to the scene.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I think you should leave.”

  I think he was expecting more of a fight. But I couldn’t argue with the truth.

  • • •

  Two weeks later I threw Manfred a going-away party at The Lounge. All the regulars were there: Dieter, Nicky, Tommy, Dandy Doug, Josh. Even Tom Hill and Carter stopped by for a drink. Most of the girls knew Manfred, and those who didn’t knew he was a good friend of mine, so everyone was in a party mood.

  It wasn’t planned, but at some point someone found the fluorescent body paints in the back office and brought them out. Immediately the guys began picking models, and the girls began pulling off their tops, because you couldn’t have a cloth-covered canvas. I saw Cathy flip on the switch to the four tubular black lights that hung strategically from the ceiling. We hadn’t turned them on in a long time, so for a second I wasn’t even sure they would work. But they all came on and soon the girls were glowing in their new fluorescent finery.

  One guy painted an Australian flag draped over Rina’s shoulders and flowing down to her waist. Another guy—Nicky, I think—worked only in red and white and created two side-by-side targets with Tessa’s nipples as the bull’s-eyes. Some of the girls turned out great, while others looked like bad imitations of modern art.

  Rochelle was the best. She’d been lucky enough to have been picked by Dieter. He was probably the best artist we had in the district. He turned her into a provocatively dressed cop, complete with a side-holstered pistol and handcuffs.

  Even Isabel, who’d been moody at best lately, seemed to be having a good time. She was laughing and passing out drinks and talking to everyone. She even got up on stage during “Love Shack” and showed everyone she still knew the moves.

  We’d been taking turns all night toasting Manfred. When my turn finally came, the room settled down to allow me to get in a few words.

  I raised my glass. “I was going to say something profound like, ‘Tonight we say goodbye to a friend with the hope that one day our paths will cross again. We each have our own roads to travel, and Manfred, we’re glad your road ran alongside ours for a while.’ But none of you would believe that bullshit anyway.” Everyone laughed. “So I’ve decided to limit myself to one word that I think sums him up.” I looked at Manfred, a wide grin on my face as I raised my glass even higher. “Asshole.”

  More laughter as they all raised glasses, then, almost as one, said “Asshole!”

  And before I knew it, the music was blaring again and people were laughing and girls were dancing and everyone seemed—for that moment, anyway—happy to be where they were. Even Manfred, who in less than forty-eight hours would be boarding a plane to Europe, probably never to return.

  Isabel told me the thing she remembered most about that night was that Mariella said she was going to show up, but never did. Isabel had been disappointed, but not enough to let it ruin her evening. Mariella, after all, seldom lived up to the promises she made to her cousin. If Isabel had known that Mariella and Manfred had had a brief affair that had not ended well, she probably would have had a horrible evening, wondering if her cousin would really show up. But Isabel never knew, and later, I didn’t feel it was necessary to tell her.

  We didn’t get the bar closed until almost sunup that night. In the end, it was just Cathy and Manfred and me standing on the sidewalk facing each other. I gave him a big bear hug and told him he was always welcome back. Cathy kissed him tenderly on the cheek and said she would miss him.

  After he climbed into the trike that was waiting for him at the curb, he leaned out, waved and said one last goodbye. I knew it was the last time I would hear from him, because of what he said when we were sitting around the pool—that Angeles wasn’t the real world. And now that h
e was leaving and returning to that real world, he had to forget us to get us out of his system.

  Cold turkey. No step down. No hair of the dog.

  • • •

  The city was beginning to come alive as Manny drove Cathy and me home that morning. The sky had started to turn blue, the black night fleeing to the west. I wasn’t as drunk as I could have been, and to say I was just tired and sad at the loss of my friend would have been only a partial truth. Manfred’s departure had stirred up questions I didn’t want to deal with, questions that had been buried deep in my mind but were suddenly inching closer and closer to the surface.

  I was fighting hard to suppress them again when Cathy said, “What road are you taking?”

  At first I thought she was talking to Manny, so I glanced up, but we seemed to be traveling on our normal route. When I realized she’d been talking to me, I said, “What do you mean?”

  “When you made the toast for Manfred,” she said. “You said we all have our own roads to travel. I want to know what road you are on.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of answer you’re looking for.”

  She looked out at the buildings that lined the side of the street, then said, “How long will our roads run together?”

  “Cathy—”

  “Will you suddenly go off in your own direction someday, like Manfred?” she asked, cutting me off.

  “No. That’s not part of my plan,” I said, realizing a split-second later it was the wrong thing to say.

  She turned to look at me. “Then what is your plan?”

  “To go home and go to sleep.” I smiled as broadly as I could, but her expression didn’t change. So I became serious again and said, “To work hard. To enjoy life. To love you.”

  “In that order?”

  I sighed, but said nothing. Silence wasn’t always the best answer, but sometimes it was the best I could come up with.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Isabel and Larry had their first fight less than three weeks later. She remembered the date exactly—September 4th. It came during an unusually long gap between visits, but Larry was finally due the following week. Whenever I saw her, all Isabel could do was talk about how excited she was.

  On the surface, the trouble began when he told her he would have to delay his trip for another week. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. What’s a week? In Angeles, a week could go by without you even noticing. And though she was disappointed, Isabel didn’t make a big deal out of it.

  Until after she told Mariella.

  “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. What happened?” Mariella said, acting the part of the concerned older sister.

  “Nothing happened,” Isabel said. “He just couldn’t get away from work yet.”

  “I see.” Mariella smiled, and sat next to her cousin on the couch, putting her arm over Isabel’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is okay.”

  “I know everything’s okay. I was just looking forward to seeing him next weekend.”

  “Of course you were. Of course you were,” Mariella said. “He should have thought of that.”

  “It’s not his fault,” Isabel said.

  “Shhh. Of course it is. He knows you have been waiting for him. Why couldn’t he have planned his business better?”

  A few tears appeared in Isabel’s eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, then leaned into her cousin, no longer able to hide the full extent of her disappointment.

  “Did you ask him?”

  Isabel could only manage to shake her head.

  “It’s okay,” Mariella said. “Don’t worry. Like you said, maybe it wasn’t his fault.” She ran her hand over Isabel’s hair, smoothing it down. “Still, he’s not being very fair to you.”

  An hour later, after Isabel spent most of the time crying in her cousin’s arms and listening to Mariella’s “supportive” words, Larry called again to give Isabel his updated flight information.

  “Did you write it down?” he asked once he was done.

  “Of course I wrote it down.” Her voice was flat and unfriendly.

  “Great. I can’t wait to see you,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  There was a pause. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “Wait,” he said. “What’s going on?” He paused, then added, “Are you mad at me?”

  She said nothing.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “The only thing I can think of is that you’re mad I had to change my trip. But I explained that to you.”

  She was silent again.

  “Is that it?”

  No response.

  “Isabel, the last thing I wanted to do was wait any longer. But it can’t be helped.”

  “Why couldn’t you have planned your business schedule better?” she blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Why couldn’t you have planned better? You’re the boss, you can do whatever you want,” she said.

  “Look,” he said, his voice serious. “I’ve got a chance to expand my business big time. But if I miss these meetings next week, that chance goes away.”

  “It’s not fair,” Isabel said.

  “No,” he said. “It’s not fair. And I am really sorry about that. But it is what it is, and I’m still coming to see you.”

  “Do you have a new girlfriend there?” she asked, her chin beginning to tremble. It was a question Mariella had asked her. The idea of it had seemed ridiculous when her cousin had proposed it, and it seemed even stupider now that she had thrown it out there. But it had just flown out of her mouth.

  “Absolutely not,” Larry said. “Isabel, I love you. I’m not looking for anyone else, I’m not thinking of anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. Understand?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “What’s really wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s not true,” he said.

  She took a deep breath, steadying her emotions. “I just want you to be here.”

  “That’s what I want, too.” Isabel could almost hear a smile in his voice, and it was enough to break what was left of the tension she had been feeling. “I’ve got to go. I love you and I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  For a moment she thought he’d already hung up, but then Larry told her in a voice that said he cared about her, forgave her and loved her, “I know.”

  • • •

  Over the two weeks before Larry’s arrival, Mariella continued to act happy for Isabel one minute, then sow the seeds of doubt the next.

  “He has a big house there in California?” she asked.

  “Four bedrooms,” Isabel told her.

  “And he really lives there all alone? That’s hard to believe.”

  At another time:

  “He’s divorced, right?” Mariella asked.

  “No, he’s never been married.”

  “Why not?”

  “He says he hasn’t found the right girl yet.”

  “That’s good. Of course, he could be lying,” Mariella said, giving Isabel a wide grin to show she was joking.

  One time when they were at the mall in San Fernando, shopping for a welcome-back present for Larry, the conversation went like this:

  “What do you think of this shirt?” Isabel asked, holding up a light blue, button-up shirt.

  Mariella wrinkled her nose. “Whatever you think he’ll like.”

  Isabel put the shirt back, suddenly questioning her own taste.

  They continued looking for a while, finding nothing that seemed right. When they’d taken a moment to get something to drink, Mariella said, “You know that everything I say to you is because I care about you and want to make sure you don’t get hurt, di ba?”

  “Sure
,” Isabel said.

  “Good. That’s good.” Mariella took a sip of her water. “So your Larry, you’re sure he’s not married, right?”

  “What?” Isabel’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “I know you told me he’d never been divorced,” Mariella said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you actually asked him if he was married.”

  “Of course I asked him,” Isabel said. “He’s not married. He’s never been married.”

  Mariella laughed. “It’s okay. I didn’t think he was. I just wanted to make sure, di ba? Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  And finally on the day before Larry arrived:

  “If he’s not married, and he has no girlfriend, and he flies over here all the time to see you, why doesn’t he marry you and take you to California?” Mariella asked.

  But this was one question Isabel had already been asking herself. And so far she’d only come up with one answer. “I don’t know,” she said.

  • • •

  I don’t remember much of anything from that time Larry came. I think I only saw him twice, his first night and his last. I’m pretty sure he brought me my usual gift of Märzen, and I do remember commenting to him on that last night that I was disappointed we didn’t get a chance to hang out more. But the ten days he was here turned out to be pretty eventful for me. And, as Isabel told me later, it was pretty eventful for them, too.

  On all of his previous trips to the Philippines, Larry had spent very little time in Mariella’s company. He and Isabel might meet her for a drink one night, or, on a couple of occasions, share a meal. But that was about it. This time, though, was different. Mariella seemed to be with them wherever they went.

  At first Larry didn’t seem to even notice. He told Isabel he was just happy to be with her. He told her over and over again how much he’d missed her. She liked the way he was always looking at her, as if she was the only person around. And so, because of this, when Mariella asked to go with them the first couple of nights, both Isabel and Larry said okay.